Hello, It's Me
by GleeFilly
Summary: Rachel took a deep breath and tapped the number, she had done it a thousand times and she'd probably do it a thousand more times. She had left messages every time, the sassy tone of Santana's voicemail telling her not to never stopping her.


**Author's Note: I know I know, I should be posting something for my fics that are already in progress but tumblr user dirranged asked (forced) me to write this instead...who can pass up writing pezberry to new Adele?! Not me.**

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 _Hello, it's me_

 _I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet_

 _To go over everything_

 _They say that time's supposed to heal ya, but I ain't done much healing_

 _Hello, can you hear me?_

 _I'm in California dreaming about who we used to be_

 _When we were younger and free_

 _I've forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet_

 _There's such a difference between us_

 _And a million miles_

Rachel stared at the phone in her hand, her thumb hovering over a number she'd known by heart since as long as she could remember having a cellphone, a number she'd called a thousand times if not more. A number that belonged to someone who was once her whole world, the sole person she had to thank for everything she had ever achieved in life, her best friend.

They used to talk about everything from silly dreams to their doubts and fears, they'd always been there for each other. They had grown up together, had been best friends and then more than best friends without even realizing the shift that had occurred, it had always just come naturally to them. From best friends holding hands to girlfriends kissing under the mistletoe at Christmas to wives holding each other late at night after a long day.

It was easy, it had always been easy with them.

But Rachel was never meant to stay in Lima, she never wanted to be a high school chorus teacher and Santana never wanted to be a small town public attorney with a degree from a community college.

They hadn't wanted to get married in a court house at 18, but their parents had never really been supportive of their relationship and Santana had wanted to get married sooner to show her parents their thoughts hadn't mattered.

Looking back, Rachel realized that their marriage was the beginning of their downfall.

They both had been accepted into universities in New York, Rachel on a full scholarship and Santana with promises of a higher one once she proved herself, but with their marriage came the Lopezes making their daughter choose between their help with school or her new wife.

Santana had chosen Rachel, she had always chosen Rachel and that wasn't going to change and for the first time, Rachel had put Santana first.

She rejected the offer from Tisch and applied to community college with Santana.

That was the second thing that had doomed them.

They tried to make it work for years, Santana had put all of her time and effort into trying to fix their marriage, school work often sitting forgotten about on their small, messy dining table.

 _"Please, Rach. Just talk to me."_

She'd plead through the closed door of their shared bedroom on the evening of her graduation from college.

 _"Don't shut me out."_

She'd push when Rachel sat silently beside her on their couch, growing more and more disappointed with her life after a long day of trying to keep a bunch of 16 year olds interested in the arts.

 _"You can't be serious."_

She'd said when Rachel stood at the front door with a bag over her shoulder and her suitcase handle held tightly in her hand on the day of their seventh wedding anniversary.

 _"I'm sorry, Santana, but this was never what I wanted. This isn't what you always promised me, what we always talked about. We talked about a shoebox apartment in New York, not Lima. We talked about bubble baths together eating pizza, not lukewarm showers where half the tiles fall off the walls if we stand too close to them. We had dreams, San, big dreams and we're just fooling ourselves if we keep pretending we're happy. I can't pretend to be happy anymore."_

Those were the last words she had spoken to her.

That was ten years ago.

Rachel hastily wiped a tear as she stared out at the ocean, after running out on Santana she had gone to New York and auditioned for every show she could. Her dads had bought her a Brownstone for finally coming to her senses and she had gotten a few small parts in different off-Broadway shows and from the outside, she looked happy and maybe on some level she was, she finally had everything she had ever wanted.

Everything apart from her best friend, her wife, her Santana.

She'd made it to Broadway three years later, on what should have been her tenth wedding anniversary. Reading and rehearsing lines should have been reading adoption papers and rehearsing speeches for potential social workers to deem them fit for parenthood.

The spare room in her house should have been Santana's office, there should have been degrees on the walls and boxes of case files all over the floor.

Her living room should have had an oversized couch instead of the expensive, uncomfortable one she never sat on.

If Santana were with her, she would have never had the jetted tub removed from her master bathroom, the very thought of taking a bath without her best friend was something she could never bring herself to do.

They had made promises to each other and even if she never picked up when Rachel called, she'd never give up on the once feisty girl who always had skinned knees and always chose her first.

Rachel had moved to California during what should have been their fifteenth year of marriage, something they had always wanted to do together and deep down, she had hoped Santana made it there. Hoped she would run into her in a small coffee shop or on a crowded board walk.

It never happened.

 _"When we're old and famous living in California, do you think the Kardashians will want us to be on their show?"_

 _"Duh, you'll be the hottest celebrity in LA. They'll probably beg you to pretend to be friends with them so their show will keep getting ratings." Santana shrugged, "I mean, they'll be on like the thirty-seventh season by that time so they'll definitely be desperate."_

Rachel smiled sadly wondering if Santana had seen her when she'd been on, wondering if the Santana now was still the reality show loving Santana she once knew. The Santana she knew would have acted calm and collected but would have freaked out when they were in the privacy of their own home, raving on and on about how she was a reality star now and how they'd probably ask her to be on regularly.

The Santana she knew always answered her calls, though.

The Santana she knew was long gone and it was all her fault.

 _Hello, how are you?_

 _It's so typical of me to talk about myself, I'm sorry_

 _I hope that you're well_

 _Did you ever make it out of that town where nothing ever happened?_

 _It's no secret that the both of us_

 _Are running out of time_

Rachel took a deep breath and tapped the number, she had done it a thousand times and she'd probably do it a thousand more times. She had left messages every time, the sassy tone of Santana's voicemail telling her not to never stopping her.

But maybe the Santana she knew was still in there somewhere, she hadn't changed her phone number or blocked her number.

Maybe she didn't listen to any of the messages but she still let her leave them.

 _"Hello?_

Rachel stood frozen with the phone against her ear, never in her ten years of calling had Santana ever picked up.

 _"Hello, who is this?"_

"How are you?" She asked weakly, her voice breaking halfway through the question.

She could hear the sharp intake of breath on the other end, she could almost hear the woman's heart beating wildly through the phone.

 _"Why do you keep doing this?"_

"I live in California now, did you know that? The view is amazing, it's what we always dreamed about, you know? House overlooking the ocean with lots of windows and-"

 _"Rachel, I don't-"_

"Please, Santana, I need…I need to do this."

"I was on Broadway for a little while, I played Maria in West Side Story…it wasn't as great without you as my Anita. The girl that played Anita..she didn't help me with my lines like you did and she wasn't an easy scene partner at all. The whole experience wasn't really what I thought it'd be."

"I have all these empty rooms in my house and I can't help but to imagine how we would have filled them together, with offices and kids' rooms and playrooms. These things haunt me, Santana, I can't escape these thoughts no matter what I do or where I go, you surround me and I think you still have my heart."

Rachel waited, hoping for the woman on the other end to say something- _anything_ , but all she could hear were the uneven breaths.

She knew what those meant, Santana had always been good at controlling her emotions but her breathing always gave her away. The hard, uneven breaths hadn't changed, she could tell Santana was barely keeping it together.

"You'd love California, Santana, I know you always liked to pretend you loved the winter because I was born in the winter but we both know you love dresses too much for winter."

 _"I know, I live here."_

Rachel let a small, proud smile take over her face, "You made it out of Lima."

 _"Yeah, it wasn't the same after you left."_

"Santana…do you, I mean can we-"

 _"No, Rachel."_

"But I just-"

 _"No."_

"Okay…okay, that's fair."

 _"Yeah."_

"San-"

 _"Stop calling, Rachel."_

Rachel felt the hot sting of tears as Santana ended the call, she knew she deserved it, she had broken the woman's heart, her spirit and probably her soul.

It was entirely her fault even if she had tried to fix it over the years.

She knew it the day she made the decision to leave Santana, leave their life and their marriage behind in Lima. She felt the woman's heart break the second she put her hand on the door knob, heard the sickening sounds of it exploding when she slammed the door behind her, saw the look of total devastation on her face as she watched her get in her fathers' car and drive away without a second look back.

It was all her fault and she'd spend the rest of her life carrying around the guilt, Santana's broken heart heavy on her conscious for however long she'd live.

She wouldn't call again, _couldn't_ call again.

She owed it to Santana to leave her alone now.

 _So hello from the other side_

 _I must've called a thousand times_

 _To tell you I'm sorry for everything that I've done_

 _But when I call you never seem to be home_

 _Hello from the outside_

 _At least I can that I've tried_

 _To tell you I'm sorry for breaking your heart_

 _But it don't matter, it clearly doesn't tear you apart_

 _Anymore_

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